Just Another
by Yukitsu
Summary: Death through a demon's eyes. Implied Kurama x Hiei.


Just Another by Yukitsu  
  
Disclaimers: It's not obvious, but this is a YYH fic. ::sweatdrop:: So if you notice who the YYH characters I used, I'd like to say that I don't own them.  
  
Something whipped up in exactly... eighteen minutes. Instead of studying, I write this. Great. It's three in the morning, and I won't be able to sleep without posting. Heh. Warning: It's pointless.  
  
Funny how time went past without them noticing. It was just a constant, something they knew was there but never really took notice of. They weren't human, didn't suffer the age lines and the greying hair, didn't go through the inevitable brittling of bones and stiffed joints. Time was a luxury. It didn't run out. Unless aided by an outsider, they were as immortal as immortals went.  
  
But day in and day out, hundred upon hundreds of these demons chase death. If with the thoughts of glory and power did they do this feat, no one was certain. Why risk losing one's soul to the Netherworlds, when one can live the rest of life as one wants?  
  
There really was just one answer: The thrill was not enough. What challenge would 'forever' present? Forever challenging was more appealing, more tempting, less boring. Surviving forever was infinitely more tolerable than flowing through eternity.  
  
Under a shadow of an overhanging rock, a demon lay. The areas of its skin that remained uncharred was the color of pus yellow, and whilst an eye was missing from its swollen socket -- without a doubt smashed in -- the other eye glowed dully of blue, like the flowers of some random weed by the side of his head.  
  
A trail of pressed grass was present from his left, where he had undoubtedly dragged himself along. This trail, if to be followed, would lead to a circle of forest roughly half a kilometer in diameter. The area and his skin had really only one thing in common -- both were burned until nothing but black and carbon were left. Still, there were darker shapes along the circle of death. Demons like he was, all reduced to ash painted on the filthy ground.  
  
It was an honest mistake, really. They had thought the runt was human, small and lithe and lost was he. Easy prey, they had agreed on; no need for planning, the decision was unanimous. One of them attacked, and in a flash was cut down to pieces so small they could each have had one to take home, had they not pursued the little not-so-human traveller. But there were more of them, out-numbered him ten to a limb.  
  
The not-so-human had been pissed. What about, they weren't really sure. One of the bandits, probably the fastest in their ranks, had managed to smash a claw against a glass jar. The frail little thing had shattered on impact. In the next instant, the not-so-human had whipped out a flower, as red as his mane. In a heartbeat, three of them were down.  
  
But bandits had aces. They wouldn't have lived as long, their profession as it was, if they didn't. Soon, the not-so-human was succumbing, death drawn clearly across his vision. He would not surrender, would not admit that he was lost. He had a demon's pride, yet the body of a human. A rogue, cocky with spit frothing from his mouth, had approached, had touched the mane, had kissed the skin.  
  
Pandemonium. Utter chaos. In the next second, more were falling, bodies thudding dully against the ground without so much as a squeak from the owners. A half second later, they were all being eaten by a black fire, white hot against their cold blood.  
  
One of the demons, in fear for his life, had hidden behind an outcropping rock. Still, the black fire was relentless, and melted everything in its path, bone or rock alike. All except for the not-so-human, and the dark figure amidst the flames.  
  
None of them had bothered scanning the terrain for survivors. In the flash of an instant, they were both gone, the not-so-human in the dark demon's arms. None of them saw the lone demon dragging its body, as good as a corpse, away from the scene.  
  
He was just a life among many. A corpse, a number, a casualty. Another immortal seeking death. He would not be missed. 


End file.
